Seeing Double
by Spit the Devil
Summary: Our two boys find themselves in a compromising position that could end up doing more harm than good when witnessed by a dangerous third party. Cas gets taken and tensions rise as Dean fights to save his angel, himself, and a whole town of people. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Seeing Double

**Rating: **M

**Characters/Pairing: **Dean & Castiel

**Summary:** While hot on the tail of their newest unidentified bad guy, one sleazy motel room and an almost unhealthy amount of hard liquor find our two favorite boys in a very compromising position that is witnessed by a dangerous third party. Cas gets taken and tensions rise as Dean fights against the clock to save his angel—and deal with some new feelings that have taken root.

**A/N:** I'm just gonna take this time to warn you all that this is my first multi-chapter Supernatural story, so be gentle! It's kind of set in my own ideal universe where Sam is busy being a blood junky and Cas is human. So you can go ahead and forget about all that mushy dark-side bullshit. Oh and…slash. That pretty much goes unsaid.

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><p>"C'mon, Cas, you're telling me you can handle using that weird angel mojo to teleport across the goddamn country, but you can't handle a little road trip?" Dean snorted, rolling his eyes as he tapped along to the radio playing—albeit softly, at Cas's insistence. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath. The angel in question squirmed in the passenger seat and moaned softly in response.<p>

"Dean…" he whined, although the annoyance in his voice was half-hearted, and the sleeve of his trench coat comically muffled his words as he hovered hesitantly over Dean's makeshift bucket.

Dean groaned. "What? Aw, Cas, I thought you got rid of that stick up your ass when you were given the boot."

Too nauseous to feel hurt, Castiel just let out another pathetic moan and stuck his face further down into the bucket. Dean thought he heard the angel mumble a jumble of slurring words that sounded a lot like, 'please no blasphemy,' but he chose to politely ignore them.

"Y'know, I'm hurt. You should watch what you say about my baby…she drives smoother than any car I've ever seen. You could show a little respect." Dean continued talking, although the conversation had turned a little one-sided. Just as he said this, the Impala hit a nasty pothole on the road and lurched unconvincingly, making Dean curse and making a distressed Cas flail a little and whimper. Dean chuckled and shrugged, not caring whether or not he made his point. As he glanced up ahead in the dimming evening light, he saw a weatherworn sign that _most likely_ said something along the lines of Cold River Creek.

Deciding that was probably the name that the perky little blonde librarian had practically grilled into his head when he and Cas went around questioning townspeople, Dean swerved right at the last possible second and nearly missed the turnoff. As the car struggled to balance itself, bouncing dangerously on the gravelly dirt road, Cas lost his lunch.

...

"Cas, we should _really_ start doin' what we came here to do. Stop mopin' around and get your little angel ass up and at 'em." Dean said as he set the six-pack of beer (hey, he _needed_ it, working with a high-maintenance half-angel and all) down onto the motel room's small kitchen countertop.

Castiel glared at the door from where he hovered over the toilet in the bathroom, although the piercing, I'm-stripping-you-naked-with-my-eyes effect didn't exactly hold the same effect when he didn't have Dean's equally intimidating green eyes to stare into. Not to mention the fact that his rumpled hair, flushed cheeks and altogether disheveled appearance seemed to make the angel, well…not as threatening as he could have been on a good day.

Ever since Dean had decided to skip the scenic route and dive right into the reckless driving, Cas had had the strange feeling that the flaky, apparently delicious tart called 'pie' Dean had forced him to eat earlier was trying to crawl back up his throat. When they got their motel room key and Dean was sure Castiel wasn't about to puke all over him, the hunter had easily hoisted Cas's arm over his shoulder and half-dragged the angel's wimpy behind all the way into the place where humans usually went to…_relieve_ themselves.

At first, Cas had been suspicious, eyeing the toilet with contempt as he considered what exactly he was supposed to do in this new, peculiar human ritual. But when another wave of nausea hit him he had lunged forward, happy to grip the ceramic rim and retch his little heart out.

Out of the blue, the bathroom door creaked open and revealed an apologetic Dean with a handful of unidentifiable objects.

"Here, eat some of these. They always make Sammy feel better when he's carsick." Dean admitted, and Cas was strangely touched that the hunter decided to reveal such an intimate bit of information with him, although it seemed hard for Dean to choke out his baby brother's name. He fed Cas some white and altogether tasteless squares that were covered in salt. After moving them experimentally around in his mouth with his tongue, he finally chewed and swallowed and felt almost instantly better.

Blue eyes wide with an almost childlike wonder, Cas gazed up at Dean as if he were some sort of god. Which the elder Winchester found hysterically ironic, although he didn't say anything because he was just too goddamn taken aback by the sheer innocence and vulnerability radiating out of his usually deadpan angel.

After an uncomfortable moment of scary Cas eye contact where the angel just sat on the floor and mechanically chewed his crackers, Dean cleared his throat and patted Castiel awkwardly on the head.

"I assume you're feeling better? All right, let's hit the road then. We got some bars to investigate."

Ah, their newest case. Cas and Dean had been hot on the tail of a string of seemingly connected murders where the victims were found with their eyes and tongues cut out and a big gaping hole where most of their intestines should be. Cas had received a tip, strangely on _his_ cell number, saying to come as quickly as possible to a little close-knit town called Cold River Creek.

The strange part of it all was that all of the victims had been seen at various bars on the nights that they had been abducted, although nobody could tell you what they did or when they left. As if they had just vanished. Dean suspected it was some sort of black magic ritual to bring back one of Hell's most wanted. Although _which_ demonic public enemy number one this masked murderer intended to call upon was unclear.

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><p><strong>AN:** Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Please review guys, I absolutely love feedback! I try my best to do the voices of the characters justice, but sometimes it's hard and they get a little muddled together, so feel free to suggest anything, I'm open to new ideas. Oh and bear with me, it's going to start out a little slow but I'll be getting to the good stuff pretty soon!


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Seeing Double

**Rating: **M

**Characters/Pairing: **Dean & Castiel

**Summary:** While hot on the tail of their newest unidentified bad guy, one sleazy motel room and an almost unhealthy amount of hard liquor find our two favorite boys in a very compromising position that is witnessed by a dangerous third party. Cas gets taken and tensions rise as Dean fights against the clock to save his angel—and deal with some new feelings that have taken root.

**A/N:** Second chapter! The updates are gonna come one after the other pretty quickly because I originally typed this as one big story and now I'm just splitting it up into little chapters. Enjoy!

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><p>More than a few whiskey shots and a very uncomfortable-looking Castiel later found Dean charming the petite brunette bartender as his angel sat stiffly on a barstool, observing quietly and teetering indecisively on the edge between confusion and understanding, as usual.<p>

"Singing, huh? Well, it just so happens to be your lucky day, 'cause…I happen to be an agent of a _very _important record label company." Dean flashed her all of his pearly-white teeth as he held up the forged business card. Even if Castiel consumed all of the liquor stores he could possibly find, nothing would make a situation such as this one comfortable for him, what with the overly-sexual women just clambering on top of his charismatic human charge.

Cas knew that Dean was considered to be extremely attractive to other humans, although mostly in a sexual manner. The angel wasn't sure if it was his looks or his personality; he wasn't too well schooled when it came to the complexities of mutual attraction, although Dean tried his hardest to teach him. For all he knew it could have been both, even though Castiel thought it was kind of pointless to dwell on things like physical beauty when he was pretty sure it was the person's soul you actually fell in love with.

Castiel pondered this, feeling troubled. He harbored strong feelings for the hunter. Did that mean Cas loved him? On more than one occasion he had dipped lightly into Dean's dreams to find his charge partaking in a series of very carnal acts with various women he loved. Now that Cas had started sleeping, he had no such dreams of Dean, although he wasn't so sure he would even _know_ what to dream of when the time came. He wasn't even sure how having sexual relations with Dean would play out, although something about the vague thought of it stirred some unexplainable feelings a little South of Cas's belt buckle.

So caught up in his own contemplations of humans, and _Dean_, and _sexual relations with Dean_, Castiel failed to realize that he was clutching the counter of the bar in a white-knuckled grip, wondrous blue orbs fixed upon a poor, intimidated bystander who was trying desperately to escape his gaze and eat her meal in peace.

"Hey, Cas, whatcha doin' there? Hello, dude? Aw, man, now is _not_ the time to go all space cadet on me." Dean growled, waving a hand in front of Cas's unresponsive face, the female bartender looking disgruntled at the sudden loss of Dean's attention. Castiel suddenly blinked and then turned to look at Dean with the widest, most sincere look ever.

"Dean, does she love you because of your beauty or because of the way you act?" Castiel blatantly asked, coaxing a confused, red-faced reaction from both the bartender and his very own human charge. Dean spluttered helplessly for a moment, not really sure what to say. He didn't want to dishearten the angel, so he took a long swig of his umpteenth beer and thought of what to say.

"What? Cas—dude, this isn't…she doesn't _love _me, we're not in _love_, we just…uh…Jesus Christ…And uh…_beauty_, Cas?" For what could very well have been the first time, Dean Winchester was at a total loss for words. Instead of taking the hint—although Dean hadn't really been expecting him to anyway—Cas continued on, looking more and more confused and concerned as he studied both of their obvious embarrassment.

"You're not? Then why are you two going to have sexual intercourse?" Castiel asked, sounding slightly offended but feeling bold and brave. Despite these mixed feelings, however, he somehow managed to look like an all-too-curious kid with a serious vendetta against Dean's game. Dean's eyes went wide, trying to shrug and cast a sympathetic look towards the mortified brunette behind the counter while simultaneously thinking of an appropriate response that would both shut Cas up and not ruin the angel's image of love forever.

"Dude, cockblock much? Couldn't you save the 'where did I come from' questions till _after_ I got laid?" Dean hissed through his teeth, and Cas's face took on a look of utter confusion.

"I—I don't understand your meaning!" the angel managed to squeak out, finding something all too intimidating about the way Dean was suddenly leering down at him in almost the same way he had done when Sam inadvertently caused the Apocalypse.

Dean huffed a sigh, realizing it was probably time to get his sorry excuse for an angel out of here before he was traumatized for life. Ignoring the bartender's indignant protests, the hunter slapped a generous tip onto the counter and turned to Cas.

"C'mon, we're outta here. Let's go before you sexually _harass_ anybody else," said Dean, but when he hopped off of the barstool a wave of dizziness hit him and he damn near fell on top of an unsuspecting Cas. _How much did I drink again?_ Dean silently wondered, gazing over at the counter and seeing an array of empty glasses (a mix of beer glasses and a few cute little shot glasses in there for good measure—well, some meaning around five or six, _maybe_ eight) that could only belong to one very tipsy hunter.

"Don't worry, Dean. I was this way when I drank a liquor store, once." Castiel said reassuringly, although Dean was a whole lot bigger than him and the smaller angel staggered uncertainly beneath his weight. Dean groaned, but could hardly contain his appreciative chuckle at how completely ridiculous Cas was.

"Well now, _that _takes a load off. I was really startin' to worry." Dean slurred, and Cas completely missed his sarcasm and beamed at him pleasantly. Dean managed to get a grip; it wasn't like he was some inexperienced drinker, like Cas over there. He could hold his own for as long as he liked, and if it came down to it he could revert to being stone cold sober in a heartbeat. At least, that's what he liked to tell himself.

Luckily, their motel was hardly a block away. By the time they made it to the motel parking lot, Dean was already twirling Cas's messy, dark hair between his fingers and telling him how pretty he looked in the moonlight. Castiel was ready to smartly spout off one of the hunter's favorite lines, 'let's get the credits rolling on this chick flick,' when something flashed in Dean's eyes as the Impala drifted into his line of vision and before Cas knew it, he was pinned with his back against the cold metal door of the car, Dean's breath hot against his neck.

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><p><strong>AN:** Love it? Hate it? Let me know! …heheh, cliffhanger! Sorry, I really couldn't help myself. There's just this really stubborn part of me that actually thinks I'm funny. I know what you guys are gonna say—Dean has been drinking all his life, how could he get drunk so easily? Let's just assume he's trying to drown his Sam-related angst. Or something lame and gushy like that. Anyway, pleaseplease let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Seeing Double

**Rating: **M

**Characters/Pairing: **Dean & Castiel

**Summary:** While hot on the tail of their newest unidentified bad guy, one sleazy motel room and an almost unhealthy amount of hard liquor find our two favorite boys in a very compromising position that is witnessed by a dangerous third party. Cas gets taken and tensions rise as Dean fights against the clock to save his angel—and deal with some new feelings that have taken root.

**A/N:** Well, I didn't really wanna cut the boys short, so this kind of turned out to be a really long chapter. This and the next chapter are kind of going to turn sort of PWP, but bear with me. It's all a part of the process!

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><p>"D-Dean—," Cas protested, although his vessel's body betrayed his words as his hips bucked back up against Dean's, the larger man grinding up against him. His half-hearted exclamations were replaced by soft little whimpers and moans, as Dean's lips were suddenly hot and heavy against his own.<p>

Castiel felt an almost dizzying warmth spreading through his body, and he would have reached up to scrabble at the Winchester's jacket for support but the hunter had his wrists pinned against the car, Dean's lips working against his own in a heated, urgent, and almost animalistic manner. Castiel found his eyes slamming shut, although he wasn't sure of what to do with his lips in response and he was pretty sure they were breaching the time that any average human being would have stopped to take a breath.

Dean must have been dimly aware of the angel's hesitance because one of his hands snaked down to Cas's ass, squeezing it tightly and meriting a surprised moan from the angel. He took advantage of the momentary parting of Castiel's lips and suddenly it was teeth clashing against teeth, Dean's tongue exploring the cavern of Cas's mouth with dizzying and overwhelming expertise.

Cas finally managed to drag himself away from the kiss, pillow lips swollen from Dean's kissing—that, in Castiel's defense, had been fine-tuned to an almost pornographic level. Struggling to catch his breath, Cas moved away as Dean once again tried catching his lips between in his own, shaking his head as both the taste and the stench of alcohol on his charge's breath assaulted his senses.

"C'mon, Cas, don't be like that." Dean grunted, the rough, grating texture of his voice going straight to Castiel's groin as the hunter went in for more lip action.

"Dean, we should—Dean we should stop, you're drunk, you don't know what you're doing." Castiel said almost fearfully, as if Dean would suddenly come out of his alcohol-induced stupor and yell at him. Dean chuckled, pressing himself up against Castiel even further and eliciting a sharp whimper from the angel's lips.

"I'm not doing this 'cause I'm drunk, Cas…I want you." Dean said, his eyes glinting almost deviously in the dim light of the streetlamp overhead. His voice slurred as if his tongue had suddenly grown too large for his mouth, but before Castiel could contemplate what this meant in relation to the amount of alcohol he consumed, Dean was diving down onto the bared expanse of Cas's neck, sucking hard.

The effect was immediate; Castiel was sold. Dean's unfair sexual advantage brought him to his knees—almost literally. The feeling of Dean moving up his neck, along his Adam's apple, and the sensation of the chilled air stinging against the gleaming trail of saliva left behind sent pleasurable chills up and down his spine. It was almost too much, all of this vulnerability and raw, over sensitized feeling. He had no idea what would happen next, could not imagine what could possibly be better than this white-hot electricity that coursed through his body.

Both of Dean's hands were suddenly busy gripping Castiel's firm ass, hoisting him up so that Cas's legs were straddling him, crossed helplessly behind the hunter's broad, strong back. Dean pressed Cas further against the car to support some of his weight, grinding against him and drawing out a string of delicious mewls and moans from the smaller man. Dean's teeth clashed with Castiel's neck again, biting and licking until he moved back up to Cas's mouth.

"Fuck, Cas." Dean growled into the kiss. The angel was a quick study, his lips now moving in time with Dean's, tongue poking out shyly like a turtle from its shell and making Dean smile at the bumbling, endearing inexperience. It was such a fucking turn on that he was hardly coherent enough to gruffly mutter one almost unintelligible word—'room'. Before Cas could say anything Dean was pushing him towards their motel room, fumbling hopelessly with the key as he _continued_ to busy himself with those gorgeous lips. Finally, Castiel took the keys from him, sticking them into the door and flinging it open. He hardly had enough time to get both of them in and shut it before Dean was tackling him once again, slamming him up against the motel room wall in a way that was a little too Dean-like to be considered violent.

Suddenly, Dean stopped, and he gazed down into Cas's eyes with a whole lot of sincerity and concern. "Cas, are you okay with this?" he asked, his hot, enticing breath blowing hot against Castiel's face and down his neck. The angel nodded eagerly, pressing himself up against Dean and he whimpered at the sudden absence of contact—he fucking _whimpered_. Dean almost took him right then and there, up against some dingy wall in a one-star motel room, but Castiel opened his mouth to say something.

"Dean, I _want_...I want to—give myself to you." He said, his voice so full of adoration and innocence and want that Dean was almost positive he didn't deserve, but _fuck it_; with Cas looking up at him with those sultry doe eyes and swollen lips he couldn't bring himself to care.

He caught Cas's lips with his own, this time slowing the kiss down and allowing Cas some time to catch up. The angel's tongue flicked out, running along Dean's lip and making him shiver with pleasure, and suddenly he was nearly ripping Castiel's jacket and shirt off, viciously unbuttoning as Castiel fumbled to get Dean's shirt up and over his head. Dean smiled at the innocent attempt, pulling away for a moment and shrugging out of the shirt to reveal his broad, muscular chest. He moved on to Cas's clothes, successfully getting his shirt off (he might have ripped a few of the buttons, but with Cas panting and moaning like that, who could blame him?) and running his hands along the expanse of the surprisingly soft skin of his narrow shoulders and chest. He moved on to the pants…they were growing tighter, the angel's throbbing arousal straining desperately against the bonds of clothing. Dean licked his lips, unzipping them with an almost intimidating vigor that fascinated Castiel.

Soon they were both in just their boxers, Dean's body flush against Cas's, hitching the angel back up so that the smaller man was straddling his waist yet again. This time he had the wall for leverage, and he dug his fingers into the indulgent skin of Castiel's thighs. As Cas adjusted himself, crossing his legs tighter across Dean's back, he inadvertently meshed their groins together, the only barrier between their erections being the thin cloth of their boxers. Castiel threw his head back and moaned, hands scrabbling uselessly against Dean's chest until they found purchase on his shoulders. His fingers climbed searchingly up Dean's hard, muscular skin until they found the raised, smooth texture of his very own handprint, branded forever. Just as his fingers made contact with that little piece of Grace that he had left behind, it was as if an electric shock had passed through both of them and Dean was suddenly shoving Cas further up the wall, making his way towards what looked like the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked breathlessly, although the way he stared trustingly up into Dean's eyes proved that Dean could probably do anything at this given moment and the angel would accept it.

"The bathroom—sink—better leverage, mmm," Dean managed to pant out as he hiked Castiel's pliant form up a little further.

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><p><strong>AN:** Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Okay, okay, I know. I'm a pain in the ass with these cliffhangers. You're all just going to have to deal with me and my hatred super long chapters. Please leave me any comments with criticisms! The next chapter is going to be kind of PWP, but I promise that's not all it's gonna be. I'm just planting the seeds for their beautiful, budding romance! All right, ew. Leaving now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Seeing Double

**Rating: **M

**Characters/Pairing: **Dean & Castiel

**Summary:** While hot on the tail of their newest unidentified bad guy, one sleazy motel room and an almost unhealthy amount of hard liquor find our two favorite boys in a very compromising position that is witnessed by a dangerous third party. Cas gets taken and tensions rise as Dean fights against the clock to save his angel—and deal with some new feelings that have taken root.

**A/N:** Second chapter! The updates are gonna come one after the other pretty quickly because I originally typed this as one big story and now I'm just splitting it up into little chapters. Enjoy!

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><p>Dean had him propped up on the edge of the sink, facing the hunter with a dazed expression of amazement. Dean took off his boxers and Castiel's, discarding the forgotten articles of clothing to the floor. Before Dean could make any further movements, Castiel tentatively reached forward with an almost childlike (Dean pushed <em>that<em> adjective out of his mind. Pedophilia? Definitely not something he wanted to be thinking about right now) curiosity, wrapping his hand around the immense length of Dean's cock, the tip already gleaming with pre-cum.

Dean threw his head back as Castiel ran his hand up and down, the pad of his thumb glancing along the tip and suddenly the hunter felt that familiar sensation of heat that told him he was close to coming.

No, _no_, he hissed in his head, he is _not _going to come in his pants (yeah, he hasn't got pants on, but the whole thing is still a little too pubescent for his masculinity to handle) because of some inexperienced handjob. There is so much more, even though this is _so good_, to come…no pun intended.

Hasty to get to the good parts, Dean reached for the nearest bottle he can find—in this case the motel-brand shampoo that's perched precariously on the side of the sink—and began to open it when he paused and looked at Cas in the eyes, as if in silent reassurance.

"This is going to hurt a little at first, but I promise it's going to be so, so good." He said, but the hesitation he expected to see in Castiel's eyes wasn't there. Instead, the angel beamed and nodded, pressing up against Dean at the sudden loss of contact.

"I will love anything you do, Dean." Cas said trustingly, and there was so much sincerity that it suddenly hit Dean—he was about to pop Cas's cherry. Set the speed for all of his future relationships—although the thought of anybody else doing this to Cas makes Dean growl. No pressure, right? Biting his lip, Dean angled Cas so that his legs are spread, propping them both up on his shoulders so he could get a better angle. He first lathered a couple of his fingers in the makeshift lube, coating them a little more than necessary, and positioned himself at Castiel's entrance.

"Now, you tell me if I hurt you." Cas nodded almost solemnly. But before he went any further, Dean leaned in and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Castiel's lips before easing his finger in.

Dean felt the ring of muscle expand to accommodate the first finger; felt Cas tightening and then relaxing. He waited until that look of discomfort has completely gone from Castiel's face until he coaxed in another finger, pushing them in all the way and wondering if he would actually be able to find Castiel's prostate.

After the third finger—Dean scissored and flexed them experimentally to further prepare Castiel for his cock—the callused pad of Dean's pointer finger brushed lightly against a differently textured surface. At the contact, Cas suddenly tightened around him and bucked his hips wildly, a surprised yelp escaping his lips. Found it. Dean smirked, but pinned down Castiel's hips with his hands to keep the angel's wild and erratic movements slightly under his control. Losing a few of his teeth was _definitely_ not a priority.

After Dean felt satisfied and comfortable enough to put in the real thing, he pulled out his fingers and Cas let out one of those sexy mewls at the feeling of emptiness that followed. Man, the angel sure can make a whole lot of noise. Dean reassured him, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he lathered on the lube even more than he had done with his fingers. He goes to put more on when one of Castiel's smallish hands reached out and stopped him. Dean looked up to meet his eyes but saw nothing but pure, unadulterated desire and admiration.

"Stop, I want to feel."

Dean chuckled and nodded, positioning himself at Cas's entrance, vision blurring a little as he tries his hardest to steady the sloppiness of his drunken movements. When he thinks he's at the right spot he spreads Cas's legs even further, making sure they're both propped comfortably up on each of his shoulders before he slowly pushed himself in.

Dean felt Cas quiver around him as he stretched him wide, and Dean thought he heard a small whimper, or maybe even a whine, but the hunter quieted any noises Castiel made make with his lips. He kissed Castiel slowly, trying his hardest to control himself even though it's almost painful not to pound the angel's slim body like a goddamn jackhammer. After all, Dean _is_ used to spending nights like these having crazy monkey sex with some bubbly blonde he picked up at the bar. Once he was all the way in, he paused and looked down into Castiel's eyes. There was pain, but Castiel urged him on, rolling his hips experimentally down to meet Dean's. Dean groaned at the tight feeling of being inside Cas and began to move, his hips picking up their pace as he angled himself to find Castiel's prostate again. Suddenly, Cas's back is arching up to press against Dean as he desperately seeks friction between their bodies, moaning Dean's name as the hunter's cock seems to hit just the right spot.

After that, Dean completely lets himself go. He can hardly control himself as he starts fucking Cas's hot channel, their bodies melding together as they connect in the most intimate way possible. Cas's cock curls up to be trapped between both of their bellies as Dean fucks him messily into the ceramic of the sink.

Dean is about to crank up the speed when unexpectedly, Castiel's back arches completely and his fingers dig into the skin of Dean's sides as he comes, moans building up as his body jerks almost violently with the force of his first actual orgasm, damn near _screaming_ Dean's name and it's so fucking hot, Dean feels him clench around his cock and suddenly he feels the same white hot sensation and it pushes him overboard as he comes inside of Cas—"_Fuck_, Cas"—his own hands searching for purchase as he grips the angel's ass. Dean then sags against the angel's body as they both come down from their highs.

Dean eventually pulled himself out when that wonderful heat subsided and the chill started to creep in, and he cleaned himself and Cas off. Castiel hardly murmured in protest, his eyes glazed in wonder as he watched Dean's every move as if he's the most important fucking thing in the whole world. Dean slides a dazed Cas off of the sink where he had him perched, supporting the exhausted celestial being until they are both under the covers. Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel's waist and dragged him closer, relishing in the way that Cas instinctively curled into the warmth of his body.

Cas doesn't know exactly when he drifted off to sleep, but he wakes up to Dean hunched over the side of the bed, chest heaving as the quiet motel room is filled with the sound of retching and gagging. Castiel shoots up in the bed, his eyes wide and searching through the darkness until his hands come into contact with Dean's back. Crawling across the bed to him, the moonlight being just enough to make Dean's outline visible, Castiel sees he's throwing up just as Cas was earlier that day. Cas gnaws hesitantly on his lower lip, knowing that it's not because Dean is 'carsick,' as he said Cas was before. The angel reaches a cautious hand out to rest on Dean's bare shoulder, sending out a bit of what's left of his Grace to see what's wrong with the hunter.

After dipping lightly into Dean's mind, Castiel realizes that the alcohol has poisoned Dean's body. He'd never seen it before, but after being around Dean and his extensive knowledge of these things, he had come to the understanding that it was normal in humans who drank just a little too much.

Meanwhile, Dean's bleary eyes had focused on Cas, confusion crossing his rugged features. "Hey, Cas, you seen that smokin' little blonde thing I was bangin' earlier?" he slurred, his words jumbling together with a voice that grated hoarsely up the passage of his throat.

Immediately, Castiel's face fell. He remembered now, what had happened when he had achieved the 'alcohol poisoning.' He had been unable to recall any of the events that had transpired, not even bits and pieces—he had entire conversations with Sam and Dean that were absent from his memory. Castiel guessed that humans just _did_ things when they were drunk; things they didn't always want, but did just because they could. Cas stiffened his upper lip and made a decision…he was going to forget about tonight. He could not let Dean live with yet another mistake weighing him down. Cas could only see it becoming an embarrassing situation if he were to remind Dean.

Fighting to not let the still new feeling of his human emotions get to him, Cas slipped a hand under each of Dean's shoulders. In the blink of an eye a naked Dean and a partially dressed Cas were in the bathroom, Cas committed to dressing Dean in boxers and the shirt he had gone out in before quickly shoving his head back over the toilet, soft and reassuring fingers carding through his hair as Dean emptied the contents of his stomach.

"Shh, it's okay," Cas murmured, distracted by the tightening and relaxing of the muscles in Dean's arms, longing the feel of their strength wrapping around his body.

He tucked Dean into bed after he covered up the rest of the evidence of what they had done. Picking up the fallen toothbrushes and bottles that had been knocked off of the sink by Cas's flailing hands; cleaning the spots that a drunken Dean had missed until there is nothing left but a sullen angel and a peaceful, sleeping hunter. Cas eventually raised his hands to try and rub the sleep from his eyes and pulled up a chair, settling in and preparing to keep a silent vigil over his slumbering charge.

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><p><strong>AN: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Boo, poor Cas! Been there, done that. Oh, I forgot to mention in the past chapters to please excuse all of my spelling and grammar mistakes—I spellchecked everything about one hundred times, but I'm only human and I make mistakes! Anyway, reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Seeing Double

**Rating: **M

**Characters/Pairing: **Dean & Castiel

**Summary:** While hot on the tail of their newest unidentified bad guy, one sleazy motel room and an almost unhealthy amount of hard liquor find our two favorite boys in a very compromising position that is witnessed by a dangerous third party. Cas gets taken and tensions rise as Dean fights against the clock to save his angel—and deal with some new feelings that have taken root.

**A/N:** I'm back! Miss me? Here's the next chapter. Again, excuse my terrible grammar, terrible plot structure, and terrible spelling mistakes! If you do that, this might pass as a somewhat acceptable story of some sort.

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><p>The late morning sun has just begun peeking through the curtains that Cas had strategically closed when Dean's eyelids flutter open and he groans. Sitting up in bed, he feels the layered blankets slide off of his shoulders and is immediately greeted by a throbbing, pounding head and a chill.<p>

"Ugh…" he moans, squinting at the clear, bright rays of light that are now filtering through the thin curtains and assaulting his bleary eyes. Glancing around at his surroundings, he feels around for the corner of the blankets and eagerly rips them off, one thought running through his mind: What the hell _happened_ last night?

Suddenly, something catches his eye. Rather, _someone_. Dean snorts affectionately as he spots his angel slouching in one of the uncomfortable chairs that he had dragged out from where it had been positioned around the tiny kitchen table. Cas's head is tilted all the way to one side, as if he had tried his hardest to stay awake but eventually succumbed to the weight of his eyelids. It takes Dean a moment to see that Cas has his beige trench coat wrapped tediously around his slender body, like a cocoon. The elder Winchester can't help the crooked smile that overcomes his features and holy shit, _what _is he doing—finds himself peeling off one of the heavier blankets from his bed and tucking it around the angel's small, sleeping frame. The little guy must've stayed up and tried his hardest to keep an eye on Dean.

Touched, the hunter is about to grab a pillow for good measure when suddenly the stench of the motel room just _hits_ him—the smell of vomit, sharp and persistent, and some other, more musky scent that Dean can't quite put his finger on, although it's _very_ familiar to him. Perplexed, Dean whirls around and finds a large patch of poorly cleaned puke that glares at him from the carpet beside his bed.

Heaving a sigh, Dean stretches his aching limbs and racks his brain hard, trying to remember how they had gotten from the bar to the motel last night. Had Cas carried him that whole way? Glancing at the angel, Dean quickly tosses that idea out the window. He's too much of a wimp in that puny meat suit, even with the powers of heaven backing him up. He'd probably used up the dregs that remained of his angel mojo to blink them back over to the room. Dean chuckled to himself at the thought of a disgruntled Cas dragging along his much larger body, getting his petite little angel hands dirty for once. _Character building_, Dean thought to himself with another soft laugh as he made his way over to the beat-up coffee machine. Caffeine was _his_ idea of a quick fix to such a vicious hangover. Lots of it.

After switching the machine on, listening to the soft and cozy burping noises that it filled the motel room with while churning out his precious brew, Dean saw a head poke up from over the counter, scruffy brown hair askew and sticking out in almost every direction. Cas lethargically glanced around, the first place his eyes landed being Dean's empty bed—Cas gets that tight feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if a hand is cruelly squeezing his insides. Dean watches with a slight smirk pulling at the left side of his mouth, amusement dancing in his green eyes as he watches Cas's head bob helplessly from left to right, getting ready to call out for the hunter when he finally has the sense to turn around.

Sparkling green orbs meet weary blue ones, but Dean is surprised when Cas averts his eyes rather than engaging in one of his socially awkward staring contests, murmuring a soft "oh," under his breath that just barely escapes Dean's notice.

Confused by Cas's _weirder than normal_ behavior, Dean pours himself a cup of coffee as the angel rises stiffly from his makeshift bed.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty." Dean teases, gesturing to Cas with his mug before taking a long, grateful sip of the bitter liquid. Cas sniffles a little, his eyes glancing from the miniature cupboards, to the coffee machine, to the half-closed bathroom door—anywhere but Dean. _Uh oh_, Dean thinks, praying (huh, ironic) that he didn't terrify Cas into a corner last night. He tended to be a very aggressive drunk.

"…Everything okay? Did I…uh, hurt you last night? You're looking at me like I just kicked a puppy, or something." Dean said gruffly, his concern growing as Cas nearly jumps out of his skin at the sentiment, suddenly staring at him with those wide, big ole tragic eyes. The angel's fingers flutter nervously along the counter as if he doesn't really know what to do with them and he shakes his head vigorously.

"Wh-What? No. No! I told you last night, it didn't hurt." Cas insists with a reassuring smile, his voice more of a timid (_timid_?) squeak, although he suspiciously looks as if the weight of the world has been lifted off of his scrawny little angel shoulders. Dean's brow furrowed in confusion, his eyes glancing up and down Cas's body as if for any sort of mark or bruise that he may have left behind.

"What are you talking about?" Cas fidgeted, that relieved look vanishing from his face as his skin visibly pales and he leans his back against the counter, fingers gripping tightly to its edges. The angel's eyes start doing that nervous flitting around thing that they did before, and, without looking Dean in the eye, he returns the question in a small voice.

"What are _you_ talking about?"

At this, Dean narrows his eyes and sets the coffee mug down on the counter, taking a step closer to Cas. "_Cas," _he quips, taking on that _don't fuck with me _tone that he used when he wasn't in the mood for Cas's abrupt, evasive responses.

Cas sighs heavily, looking down at his feet indecisively, before he glances up at Dean with surprisingly steely eyes. "It was nothing. Last night, you pushed me. I fell. You kept apologizing but I _told_ you I was fine." he retorted irritably, although his voice still carried that same nervous tone, masked by his attempt at seriousness. Dean felt a guilty pang hit him right in the gut, knowing just how inexperienced Cas was with humans—let alone _intoxicated_ ones. He could just see himself being the biggest jackass on the planet and shoving the poor guy down to the ground over something stupid, like a misplaced hand or the wrong set of words.

"Aw, shit Cas, I'm sorry." Dean said, shaking his head and approaching the angel. Immediately, Cas took an instinctive step back, back bumping up against the countertop. Dean's insides felt like they'd been plunged in ice water—had he really freaked Cas that much?

Cas pressed his puffy, pink lips together thoughtfully; he knew the way he was acting was taking its toll on Dean. He wanted to act normally, but something inside of him wouldn't allow that behavior that had come so naturally before. He was afraid to even _look_ at Dean, let alone touch him. It all felt like some sort of violation, like Cas had been the one to take advantage of Dean last night. Dean looked pretty broken up, but Cas decided it was for the best. They had work to do.

Cas's eyes softened, and he stole a furtive glance of Dean's face before returning his gaze back down to his feet. "Dean, it's okay. My vessel just…aches. I believe I must have slept in the wrong position last night." he admitted, shuffling uncomfortably. Dean sighed, deciding that they would have time to sort this out later. Right now, they had a murderer to catch—a murderer with a hard-on for one of Lucifer's most devious gooks.

"C'mon, we got ourselves a demon lover to hunt down."

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><p><strong>AN:** Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Well, not much to say here. This story isn't even showing up in the archives yet, and I really _really_ want some feedback already! As for this mystery monster of ours, let's just say he's going to play a pretty big part in how the story plays out, so don't think it's just a sorry excuse for some Dean/Cas alone time! I won't reveal the full extent of my fictional boogieman's involvement _just_ yet…mostly because I'm still working out some of the plot kinks myself! Let's just say he's got some beef with our beloved Castiel.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Seeing Double

**Rating: **M

**Characters/Pairing: **Dean & Castiel

**Summary:** While hot on the tail of their newest unidentified bad guy, one sleazy motel room and an almost unhealthy amount of hard liquor find our two favorite boys in a very compromising position that is witnessed by a dangerous third party. Cas gets taken and tensions rise as Dean fights against the clock to save his angel—and deal with some new feelings that have taken root.

**A/N:** To all you people favoriting or adding this story without a word—puhlease review! I wanna hear all your beautiful voices! And not feel like a total loser as I sit hunched over my computer writing stories nobody likes and isolating myself from the rest of the world like the Hunchback of fucking Notre Dame.

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><p>Cas huffed a sigh, jutting his lower lip out in what Dean could have <em>sworn<em> was a pout. As the day had progressed, the angel had eventually warmed up to him, even allowing Dean to straighten out his tie and make him look like a real FBI agent when they went to investigate a one of the crime scenes.

As for the job, Dean's reckless drinking seemed to have cost them another life; this time, it was that of a young woman who had been stood up at a bar just down the street from where Cas and Dean had been lurking.

"This…does not appear to be the work of a human." Cas had admitted, squinting his eyes thoughtfully as he examined the body. Totally reassuring, right? I mean, when you have an angel (well, ex-half-angel if you wanna get all technical) with those serious blue eyes telling you something like _that_, you gotta believe 'em. Even if it made this otherwise simple job about ten times more difficult than it should have been. Because now, they had something inhuman on their hands, not some devil-worshipper with a plane to bring back all of Lucifer's finest. And that was a horse of a whole difficult color, if you asked Dean. And not just because Sam had walked out with Ruby's handy-dandy, demon-killing knife.

Meanwhile, Cas had been dealing with a few problems of his own. After spending the better half of last night fornicating with his human charge, the angel had found it hard to even make _eye contact_ with him. It was unusual and discomforting, and he had started feeling a heat in his cheeks and neck whenever the hunter was closer than he should be. Normally, that wouldn't have bothered his vessel at all. In fact, it was always _Dean_ who got a little pink in the face whenever Cas drifted too close. Maybe Jimmy's body was developing a fever? Somehow, Castiel had a nagging suspicion that a fever was not the cause.

…

"Dean…I feel uncomfortable, down there." Cas leaned in and whispered into the hunter's ear, squirming uneasily in his seat. Dean nearly choked on his beer, casting an incredulous, sideways glance in the angel's direction.

"C'mon, dude, there's just some things you gotta keep to yourself," he scolded, setting his beer down on the table. Cas shook his head obstinately, crossing his legs together and fidgeting even more.

"It's…I don't _like_ it. It feels like…like…" Castiel gestured vainly in the air with his hands, looking helplessly at Dean with urgent blue orbs. Understanding suddenly registered in Dean's eyes and he barked a laugh, shaking his head and patting Cas on the knee—pretending not to notice when the angel flinched from the contact.

"Sounds like nature's calling, man. You're gonna have to do that on your own, buddy." Dean said, but when he was met with a blank look, he sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "You gotta _go. _Drain the lizard? Take a leak? Drain the main vein? …Dude, _urinate._" Finally, understanding flooded in Cas's flushed face and he nodded eagerly, as if awaiting further instruction. Dean nodded towards the red, flickering neon sign reading 'restrooms.' "Well, go ahead, skipper. Go do your thing. You'll know what to do, just don't go eyein' up anybody else's man junk, y'hear? That's a bathroom no-no." Dean demanded with a soft chuckle as the angel leapt enthusiastically off of his barstool and headed to the back of the bar.

Caught up in his own personal amusement, the hunter didn't notice the shadow-faced man who slipped out of his seat in a booth and slunk after the angel and into the bathroom.

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><p><strong>AN:** Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Short chapter, I know. I mean, I _might_ make the chapters a little longer if I actually get some feedback from all you pesky kids. But I really ended it there because the next scene is pretty long. Please let me know how you think I'm doing! I mean, I know I use a lot of commas and adjectives and I'm a terrible writer, but this is my first Supernatural story so you guys should really cut me a little slack here.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **Seeing Double

**Rating: **M

**Characters/Pairing: **Dean & Castiel

**Summary:** While hot on the tail of their newest unidentified bad guy, one sleazy motel room and an almost unhealthy amount of hard liquor find our two favorite boys in a very compromising position that is witnessed by a dangerous third party. Cas gets taken and tensions rise as Dean fights against the clock to save his angel—and deal with some new feelings that have taken root.

**A/N:** So, this is the last part of the story I have saved on my computer from months ago. From here on out, updates are going to be slower and the quality of writing is going to steadily decrease. Which is definitely saying something.

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><p>Cas nudged open the bathroom door, his wide, curious eyes sweeping over the array of stalls and urinals hesitantly before entering. There was one other man in the bathroom, standing at one of the urinals in the center and holding his…his <em>genitals <em>in his _hands_? Cas observed with wide eyes until his object of fascination felt his stare and turned slightly around. Remembering what Dean had warned him, Cas quickly looked away and shuffled over to one of the flushable wall fixtures. The man grunted suspiciously, and with the zip of his fly he made a beeline towards the door. As he did, another man with hooded eyes entered.

Cas's perplexed eyes surveyed the receptacle before him, head tilted to the side in that way it usually was when he didn't quite understand something. The feeling in his groin persisted, making him squirm and feel antsy as he tried his best to decipher the cryptic colloquial terms Dean had been using, wondering if they could be useful to this particular situation. Drain the lizard? Castiel glanced surreptitiously around the bathroom, but there were absolutely no lizards to be seen. Take a leak? Nope, no leaks to be taken, either. It seemed that the bar's plumbing war more than pristine. Drain the main vein? Cas glanced down and made a dubious face at the bluish veins pulsing beneath the thin skin of his wrists. He didn't see how _that_ would help relieve his vessel's growing problem. Sighing impatiently and deciding to do whatever that other guy had been doing, Castiel made a move towards the zipper of his pants when a slick voice from behind interrupted him.

"Castiel. Well, I can safely say that I never expected to see _you_ in a place like _this_."

Cas whirled around, finding himself face to face with the hulking form of a tall man, leering menacingly down at him. Of course, the man's size and height weren't what made the bottom of what felt like Cas's stomach drop out. How did this man know his name? Even without his Grace at full strength, something deep in Castiel's gut told him that this man was not human. _Danger_. Castiel could have sworn he heard a lock click as the man edged away from the door and towards him. Cas swallowed hard, instinctively backing up a step as the man approached him.

"Who are you?" the angel asked evenly, trying his best to keep his vessel's voice from betraying the nagging, icy cold _fear_ that gripped at his lower intestines. The man barked a harsh laugh, and suddenly a vicious grin was peeling his lips away to reveal rows of large, pearly white teeth.

"Who am _I_? That's funny, Castiel…you of all people should remember _me_." the man sneered meanly, taking another step closer. Castiel flinched away but felt the small of his back bump up against the urinal. He was cornered.

Cas opened his mouth to say something when suddenly the man's hand was reaching out and taking hold of Castiel's slender fingers. Castiel recoiled, pulling his hand away. The stranger clicked his tongue, a devilish smirk darting across chapped lips.

"Aw, c'mon, don't be like that, _Cas_." the man taunted mockingly, putting emphasis on the nickname that Dean had given Castiel. "You certainly didn't object to such contact last _night_, did you? You and your _human_ were 'getting it on' last night, am I right? Maybe you'd be more comfortable if I took on a more…_pleasing_ form." he leered, and suddenly his face was morphing, distorting itself. A thin, aquiline nose bubbled and morphed into a more distinguished, pointed one, gaunt cheeks expanding with disturbing cracks. In painfully slow motions, the man's once nondescript face slowly took on that of Castiel's human charge.

The fake-Dean snickered in a way that was too sinister to fit the rugged hunter, too _wrong. _He stretched Dean's plump lips into a twisted, Cheshire cat grin. Cas looked on, horrified, for some reason finding himself, or his vessel, rendered completely speechless.

"How did you—you're…" he trailed off with an embarrassed squeak, his face reddening and breaking his cold, emotionless composure. Fake-Dean laughed maniacally, sidling up even closer until his chest was nearly pressed up against Cas's and there was hardly an inch between them. Even though the voice was definitely Dean's, something about it was harsher and just…_different_. Cas closed his eyes at the familiar sensation of Dean's hot breath ghosting lightly down his neck; had to keep reminding himself that no, this was _not_ Dean. This was whatever thing had spied on them the night before and then decided to cruelly impersonate the hunter.

Suddenly, those perfectly formed lips were crashing down against his own with a scary sense of urgency. Cas choked out an unconvincing _stop_, trying unsuccessfully to push the Fake-Dean off of him. The weight against him was familiar, and as he was pinned between the hard ceramic of the urinal and the almost equally hard chest of Dean, or _whatever_ this was, Cas felt his own arousal stirring helplessly. Fake-Dean laughed callously into the kiss, biting down hard on Castiel's lower lip and drawing blood. Cas let out a surprised squeal, yanking his face away and gazing up at this Dean impostor with large, betrayed blue orbs.

That was when he saw it; the fatal flaw in Fake-Dean's clever design. The eyes. What should have been an piercing, greenish hazel was instead a murky, muddy brown. That was all that Cas needed to resist the temptation, shove the imitator away and make a break for the exit, ignoring the angry string of curses that echoed behind him. Cas slid to a stop and slammed against the door, fumbling clumsily with the lock when suddenly an almost claw-like hand threaded through his dark, unruly head of hair, dragging him violently backwards.

Castiel struggled, hands immediately flying up to where the thing had him by the roots of his vessel's hair, eyes watering at the little shockwaves of pain that pulsed down his scalp as he was flung carelessly into one of the stalls, crashing against the unforgiving porcelain toilet with a sickening thud. Cas suppressed a cry, struggling to restore order to his now tangled mass of limbs that were splayed messily out around him. For some reason, the vessel wouldn't obey him—instead, he found himself staring up at his attacker like a deer in headlights.

The impostor Dean came down on him, once again using his hair as a makeshift leash. "You—will _not_—escape me this time!" it snarled, slamming the angel's head against the concrete of the toilet seat. Fighting unconsciousness, Cas felt his body go slack in the monster's stony grip, a shower of red clouding his vision. Another bash to the head and the dark spots that had been slowly creeping into his vision converged and left him floating in blissful unawareness.

…

Dean sighed heavily, casting yet another uneasy glance at the back of the bar as he dutifully awaited the return of his angel. The hot chicks _alone_ that he was missing out on because of this guy had Dean's chiseled jaw working overtime as he every so often brought his beer up to his lips in an almost robotic motion.

Dean hadn't wanted to bother Cas. It was the guy's first time using the _bathroom_, for god's sake. He deserved a little alone time, right? But c'mon, roughly fifteen minutes? That was pretty ridiculous. About ten minutes in, Dean had felt a strange churning in his stomach that he chose to ignore. Yeah, he had a pretty damn good gut instinct. But Castiel was in a public restroom. More than enough guys had entered and left by now. What was the worst that could happen? Cas falls into the toilet and gets stuck? Walks out with toilet paper attached to those fancy dress shoes?

Fighting the overwhelming temptation to burst into the restroom and demand to know what was taking so long, Dean another swig of his beer and turned to check out the cute little waitress who kept slinking by. It was then that he noticed the line. At first it had looked like it was for the arcade game that was tucked away in the corner of the bar. But Dean had only gathered that from a passing glace, and he realized now that it didn't make much sense. Grown men waiting to waste quarters on some stupid kid's game?

Cocking an eyebrow, Dean leaned back a little and saw that the line was definitely for the men's bathroom. Now, _that_ was strange. A feeling of dread washed over Dean and chilled him to the bone as he hopped off the barstool and made a beeline to the back of the bar.

"Uh, excuse me, what are you guys waitin' for?" Dean asked one of the men towards the front, casting a suspicious eye up and down the growing line. The man snorted in annoyance, shrugging his shoulders.

"I'll be damned if I knew. Some asshole thought it would be funny to lock the goddamn bathroom door. That scrawny-assed waiter's been scurryin' all around, lookin' for a key or somethin' to get it open."

Okay, something was definitely up. Cas tried his hardest to stick to regular human 'traditions,' and he usually picked things up pretty quickly. It was highly unlikely he would hole himself up in a cramped public restroom just to piss off a few drunk Southerners. Dean grunted a distracted thank you and made his way to the locked door, ignoring the protests from the people in the line and trying the handle.

"Hey, Cas? Dude, you in there? Cas?" Dean asked, a sudden edge to his voice that definitely had not been there before. When there was no answer, the hunter tried the handle again. Not in the mood to pick some stupid lock that didn't really have a purpose _anyway_, Dean reared back a few steps before kicking down the door, stirring up a dusty cloud of plaster that had the men behind him coughing and spluttering.

Immediately, Dean knew something wasn't right. One of the urinals was broken and spraying a jet of water all over the bathroom floor. Ushering the curious onlookers back a few steps and flashing them one of his various FBI badges, Dean ventured further into the bathroom.

"Cas? Buddy? You uh, get lost or somethin'?" he called, but there was a growing sense of worry rising up in the back of his throat, making his tongue feel too big for his mouth.

Writhing snakes rapidly swallowed the butterflies that had been fluttering in his stomach as he turned and looked into the stall closest to the exit. Its door was hanging off of its hinges, and there was an almost candy-colored splash of red smeared along the toilet seat, growing darker as it gathered and dripped lethargically to the grimy floor. There was an almost handprint-shaped smudge that looked as if it had been dragged along the cheery whiteness of the tiles.

A soft breeze tickled eerily at the back of Dean's neck, making him turn instinctively. He found himself faced with a wide-open window, one last splotch of smeared blood glaring out at him from either side of the open window frame, as if a pair of hands (with fingernails not quite long enough to dig into the thin white paint) had grasped weakly onto the sides in one last, pathetic attempt at resistance.

Dean stood frozen for a moment, before running to the open window and poking his head out, although he knew it was no use.

"Cas! God_ dammit_, _Cas_!"

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><p><strong>AN:** Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Bye-bye, Cas! Don't worry, our mystery figure will eventually reveal his true identity—and his devious intentions, of course. Because these bad guys _always_ want something from you. When they show up, it's never to just say hello or have a cup of tea. Like a rapist (or an auditor from the IRS), they come, they take what they want, and then they leave.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **Seeing Double

**Rating: **M

**Characters/Pairing: **Dean & Castiel

**Summary:** While hot on the tail of their newest unidentified bad guy, one sleazy motel room and an almost unhealthy amount of hard liquor find our two favorite boys in a very compromising position that is witnessed by a dangerous third party. Cas gets taken and tensions rise as Dean fights against the clock to save his angel—and deal with some new feelings that have taken root.

**A/N:** Oh my god. It's literally been forever and I'm so sorry about that! I had all this testing and my brain just refused to cooperate whenever I tried sitting down and writing. I'm gonna warn you ahead of time…this chapter kind of sucks. It didn't really go anywhere and you don't really learn that much about our mystery man, but I swear I'm getting there! The next chapter is when it all comes out. Thank you all for your kind reviews, and please, keep 'em coming!

To **anon**—Don't hate me, but I got caught up in the moment and it looks like widdle Cas's bladder is just going to have to suffer through another chapter. But don't worry—next chapter he'll be peeing in a totally un-humiliating fashion and _loving _it. His bladder relief will know no bounds.

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><p>Even as he dwelled carelessly within the bonds of unconsciousness, a part of Castiel knew there was something incredibly, fundamentally wrong. He'd never been buried this far back in the depths of his mind—he had always been able to claw his way back to the surface and observe the world through closed eyelids as his vessel healed itself. And even though he was, for the most part, uneducated on matters of the human body, the feeling made him nervous.<p>

When he was finally able to force the disobedient eyes of his vessel to open, the first thing he noticed was the dirty window before him. Darkness swirled behind its glass pane, and he guessed that meant it was now nighttime. He shifted, glancing down at the rotting wooden floor beneath him.

It was nighttime…so why wasn't he in the motel room? Where was Dean?

Alarm bells immediately went off in his head. He tried pushing himself up off the ground, but he had no strength in his arms and his wrists just bent at the pressure.

He became aware of a throbbing that started at the crown of his head and then made its way down and around, as if somebody were playing the drums on his head. _John Bonham_ was the first name that came to mind, said in Dean's voice as he bopped along to a song that Castiel didn't know.

Cas's chapped lips stretched painfully into a smile at the thought of Dean, but the gesture quickly turned into a grimace as another throb caused his vision to go a little white around the edges. He ducked his head as if to escape the pain, squeezing his eyes shut until it subsided into a low, almost-manageable thrum.

Lifting his head, Castiel glanced furtively around the cavernous room. Wooden panels surrounded him from floor to ceiling, the only sign of an exit being the window that stood mockingly before him.

"Dean?" he called out, but his voice cracked and faltered, cries dying in his throat as he realized how pathetic and small he sounded. He didn't usually sound like that, right? With wide and uncertain eyes, he tried to clear his throat but was met with the same results.

"It sounds like _somebody_ could use a cough drop. Why don't you use a little bit of that angel fairy dust to fix it? Shouldn't be too hard for _you_, Castiel. Knock knock, little guy."

Castiel's head jerked up in surprise at the unfamiliar voice, narrowing his eyes when he saw nothing. "What do you want from me? Who are you?" he demanded, cringing at the way his own voice trembled and shook.

There was the familiar sound of wings fluttering and Castiel suddenly found himself facing an almost devilish grin and a pair of dark, sinister eyes. An angel? Or…something else. Cas flinched instinctively back, the face bearing teeth that glinted maliciously in the dim lighting.

"You're supposed to say _who's there_, Castiel. Didn't Gabriel teach you anything?" Castiel winced at the mention of his deceased older brother. "Hmm, touchy, are we? You certainly didn't get _that_ from that hard ass. Maybe you got it from that big old hunk of Winchester, huh?"

The figure standing before him looked undoubtedly more human after the initial shock of his appearance had worn off, although his eyes glinted and gleamed in a way that suggested something very _in_human about him.

"Who are you?" Castiel repeated in an attempt to change the subject, unable to conceal the worry that colored his voice at the mention of Dean. The man before him grinned and opened his arms as if the answer were obvious.

"Who am _I_? Come now, Castiel. Wrack that little brain of yours, I know you can do it."

Castiel's piercing stare remained unfaltering, his stony gaze locked on the figure before him, although the intimidating look was lost on the guy's amiable expression. The man shrugged his shoulders, trying his best to look offended.

"Is that your final answer? _Wrong_. Although I can't say I'm all that surprised—it's been quite some time since we last crossed paths. Still no guesses? Ah, well. I'll give you a little hint…I'm your long lost big brother!" the man beamed ecstatically, and Cas squinted pensively at him before recognition finally settled in and his large eyes widened even further, a mixture of awe and horror and _fear_ brewing within stormy blue irises.

"Sariel?"

…

Dean nearly tore his hair out in frustration as Bobby's cellphone went right to voicemail for the fiftieth time.

"Bobby, it's Dean. Charge your goddamn phone every once in awhile, will ya? Cas is missin' and I got a _bad_ feeling about this one. Call me back." Dean slammed the phone closed, growling in frustration. "Sonuva_bitch_!"

The hunter stormed back over to his Impala, flinging open the door and sliding in. He had been to every single goddamn crime scene in the town. He had been to the library to do some Internet research—which was just a fucking waste of time because that was always Sammy's job, and the only thing Dean knew how to do on the computer was go to his favorite porn sites. He had questioned the families of the victims and checked in with the local authorities and submitted fucking _blood_ _samples_ into the lab to be analyzed.

But he still had nothing.

And he was getting worried, because Cas was out there somewhere, afraid and bleeding and_ human_, and he couldn't do shit about it besides sit on his ass and wait for Bobby to call.

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><p><strong>AN:** Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Yeah, I know. This is a shitty chapter. And Cas still hasn't peed yet. But it's been kind of an off day for me and I just wanted to get _something_ out there. Don't want you guys thinking I forgot about you, right? I'm perfecting all my glaring plot gaps and working on the next chapter as we speak. And at the rate I'm going, there's a good chance it'll be up later tonight.


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